The Cold
by Saiklor
Summary: Summary  Reid, Morgan, Hotch and Prentiss venture to northern New York state in the dead of winter to look for an unsub who is killing only on alternate Tuesdays.  told in a series of vingnettes . Reid/OFC.  rated M for theoretical future chapters
1. Chapter 1

The unsub's hands shook as she held the gun outstretched. The biting winter air turning her fingers more numb and throbbing as the seconds ticked past.

"By the numbers, I saved seventeen lives, not including the countless ones that _they_ would have taken or wrecked, if they'd been given the chance. _You cannot tell me that what I did was wrong_." She pronounced her words emphatically, but her face was grim.

Over the barrel of his own gun, Dr. Spencer Reid frownd at her and shook his head. But even as he did, he wondered if maybe she could be right.


	2. Chapter 2

"I do _not_ understand why anyone would live in a place like_ this_." Reid tucked his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and hopped uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Morgan turned and gave his Nevada-born coworker a once-over before smirking broadly. Reid's tall, lithe frame stood hunched over, knock-kneed and shivering on the hardpacked snow of the sidewalk. A lined, but light jacket bulged over what Morgan guessed was at least three sweaters layered beneath it. The ankles of Reid's jeans and his red hightop trainers were darker than usual, betraying the fact that they were soaked. Reid shifted back to his other foot and Morgan shook his head in amusement, then obviously adjusted the hood of his own snug winter parka with his glove clad hands. Reid huffed.

"It's not funny! Frostbite can cause permanent nerve damage, sensation loss, and even lead to amputation—hey!" Reid's dodged sideways as Emily threw a packed puff of white snow towards his head. The ball lost steam partway and fell apart in front of him on the ground. He glared at Emily, but she was examining the snow on her glove.

"Damn, it's too cold to even make a decent snowball!" she complained.

"Come on people." Hotch's serious tone cut off Reid before he could begin to grumble again. The team marched on, the sound of hardpack crunching under their boots and shoes. They rounded the corner of a brick building and stepped under a stiffly frozen piece of police tape into an unplowed alleyway. Reid groaned inwardly and tried to mince his way along in the footsteps of those who had stepped before him.

"You must be the FBI people." A male police officer extended a gloved hand to Hotch. "I'm detective Raynolds, I'm sorry we had to meet under these conditions."

"Yeah, even for northern New York state this weather is uncharacteristically cold for this time of year, or really, for _any_ time of year." Reid replied as he lowered his foot into a pre-existing footprint in the deep snow. Raynolds stared at him.

"I- I meant because of the serial killer?" He stared at Reid questioningly.

"What do you know so far?" Hotch asked.

"Well sir I wasn't sure we had anything on our hands. A town the size of this, well, we get the occasional gun-related homocide, and sometimes people will find bodies and call them in, but you know, people don't want to get _involved_, won't give us their names." Raynolds glanced up at the agents who nodded sympathetically, so he continued. "But this now is the third one we got, killed with a gunshot to the head _and_ a person called to let us know that they were dead and where to find them _and_ they all happened on Tuesdays! And of course," Raynolds shifted a bit himself and looked down "all stripped down to their skivvies! Seems like a bit of a coicidence to me."

"Or a pattern. You were right to call us in." Hotch reassured the man.

"This here is what's left of the most recent crimescene, but you can come back to the office when you're done looking and I'll show you what the CSI boys bagged and tagged from this and the others." Raynolds offered. Hotch nodded.

"Reid, Morgan, go with Detective Raynolds and set up, then work on victimology. Prentiss and I will join you shortly." Hotch decided. Reid sighed with relief.

"C'mon iceman." Morgan teased as he followed the police officer back towards the street. "Let's get you thawed out."

Reid breathed only one word in response as his frozen feet stumbled along: "Coffeeeeeeee!"


	3. Chapter 3

Reid's socks left damp footprints on the carpeted floor of the precinct as he wandered back and forth in front of the bulletin board. He was busy posting up crimscene photos and attaching labels when Morgan returned with two steaming mugs. He handed one to Reid who reached into his shoulderbag and pulled out a half dozen packets of sugar. He shook them into his coffee as Morgan perused the wall.

"Three victims. All male. All killed by single gunshot wound to the head. All stripped to their undergarments, but not naked. All found within minutes of death thanks to whoever called 911." Reid summarized the board for Morgan as he stirred the sugar into his coffee. "Probably the calls came from the unsub, judging from how quickly they came in after the victims were killed, but they came from a payphone, no fingerprints on the phone. Each victim was found in an unplowed alleyway off of a main street, not exactly a likely place for someone to trip over them in the depths of winter."

"Different ages, different races, different occupations." Morgan mused.

"The unsub strips their clothes but the crimes have no obvious sexual component." Reid cocked his head at the photos of the dead people on the board. "I bet they were freeeeeezing." he shivered and took a big gulp of his coffee and spluttered.

"Hey Reid, " Morgan said, eyes scanning across the wall of photos and tags, "I already put sugar in it for you."


	4. Chapter 4

Hotch and Emily arrived back to the police station where Reid and Morgan filled them in on their preliminary observations. The team settled in reviewing casefiles and inspecting the scant evidence from the cardboard boxes as the sun sunk in the sky.

"I'm losing my edge." Morgan said after a few hours. "I need a bite. Anyone want to join me?"

"I'm good for a while longer." Hotch replied without looking up from his file.

"No thanks." Emily echoed.

"Reid man, don't make me fly solo." Morgan said.

"I could eat." Reid said agreeably as he stood up from the table where he had been plotting points on a map of the city. As he and Morgan pulled on their jackets and gloves, detective Raynolds popped in and suggested they try a pub down the street.

"I'm heading home for the night, but I'll be back bright and early in the morning!" the detective told them as they exited the police building. "I want to catch this bastard before Tuesday roles around!"

"Statistically most serial killers get away with far more than three murders before they get caught." Reid piped up. Morgan rolled his eyes.

"We'll have something to tell your team in the morning. We'll catch this guy." he assured the detective as they parted ways.

"Reid, _man_..." Morgan exclaimed at his friend and fellow agent once they were out of earshot of the detective. "It doesn't do any good telling him that the serial killer's probably gonna get another bite or two at the apple!"

"Sorry." Reid mumbled.

"You make me wonder sometimes, you really do!" Morgan grumbled as he pulled open the door to _Daniel's Pub_. Reid breathed a sigh of relief as they entered into a warm, bright and friendly atmosphere. A number of pool tables and a bar were in one crowded room while another was entire full of booths and dining tables. The tables were all full of young couples and groups of college students. A waitress walked over, balancing trays precariously on both of her hands.

"I've got a booth in the back you boys can have, just give me a few minutes to get it cleared, okay?" she said as she whisked past, her apron ties fluttering as she went. They nodded their assent to the back of her head and went to wait at the bar. Reid picked up a peanut basket in the shape of a shamrock off of the bartop and investigated it.

"The decor of pubs in America is supposed to recreate or mimic something of oldworld charm but actually succeeds more readily in creating a postmodern fractured environment." Reid commented in an offhand manner. Morgan reached out and took the dish from his hands, placing it slowly down onto the bar. Reid looked up at Morgan confused.

"Reid. _Reid_. You're killllling me." he said. "We're in a bar, there are _lovely_ ladies herein, and you're talking about postmodernity and peanut bowls."

"What should I be talking about?" Reid queried, confused.

"How about not talking _about_, how about talking _to_." Morgan crossed his arms over his chest. "I bet you can't get a lady's number before we get seated for dinner!"

"I bet you're right." Reid replied, a little too quickly. But before Morgan could grab his friend and forcibly throw his skinny self into the bevvy of women playing pool at the closest table, a light laugh distracted both of them. From down the bar, a lean girl dressed in a sweater and jeans turned away from her group of friends and smiled at Reid and Morgan. Her friends went quiet, watching her approach the two men.

"You can have my number" she said with a smile as she slid down the bar towards them "if you explain why you think a fractured poststructural space can't _also_ be reminiscent of oldworld charm." The girl hopped up onto the vacant stool beside Reid and pulled a business card from her purse. She waved it towards him without revealing the front of it "Well?" Reid was stunned, but then caught himself.

"I- I- I never said it _couldn't_ be both." Reid stuttered as he looked at the petite brunette who was now looking intensely at him. "But, but even if the individual items were reminiscent, or even very similar, the physical comparison would only be superficial and wouldn't get to the root of the differences in establishing place that the similar items would contribute to. I'm Dr. Spencer Reid-Spencer, is fine."

"Molly Greens, not doctor yet, but in just a few weeks I will be." Molly handed her card to Reid who took it. Morgan slapped Reid on the back and laughed at the entire exchange. He leaned over Reid to greet their new friend.

"Derek Morgan." Morgan shook the girl's hand and then bid a hasty retreat back behind Reid. He watched as Reid read the card with what must have been exaggerated slowness, for Reid, and then smoothly made it vanish and then reappear behind Molly's ear. She giggled at the trick. Behind him, Morgan just about choked with satisfaction.

"Medical anthropology" Reid nodded at the card before seemingly making it vanish again to Molly's delight. "An interesting field, although somewhat misnamed, it's more accurately the socio-cultural anthropology of medicine. What's your exact area of study?"

"Your table is ready!" The same waitress hurried past again, a tray of dirty plates and glasses threatening to topple as she went. Morgan groaned inwards, his buddy was doing _so well_. Reid stood up from his stool and Morgan slowly followed suit.

"Call me sometime, and we can talk about." Molly suggested as she slid off her stool. "Nice to meet you Spencer, and Derek." She smiled and returned to her group of friends who enveloped her back in with whispers and giggles. Reid turned to Morgan with an elated, and somewhat surprised, smile across his face. Morgan rolled his eyes and led him to their waiting booth at the back of the other room.

"Reid! My man! You did it!" Morgan's face broke into a smile and he punched Reid in the shoulder once they were safely ensconced in the privacy of the booth. "That magic trick was smooth! _You_ were smooth! Where did that come from?"

"Ow." Reid complained about the punch, but he kept the same silly grin plastered across his face. He rubbed his shoulder with one hand, but he slipped his other hand into his jeans pocket to finger the paper card safely tucked within.


	5. Chapter 5

"I tell you Hotch you should have seen this guy, he was a smooth operator." Morgan said as he recounted the episode to the rest of the team. Emily smiled widely at Reid and even Hotch raised an eyebrown and let the appearance of amusement play across his lips.

"Smooth. Really." Hotch deadpanned back at Morgan.

"I know, hard to believe." Morgan laughed at Hotch's mild disbelief while Reid crossed his arms in mock frustration.

"You guys, you tease all you want but the real question is, do I _actually_ call her?" Reid looked down at his folded arms sheepishly, a slight blush pinking his cheeks.

"What?" Emily exclaimed, "Reid! You always complain about not having dates! You _have_ to call her!" Emily exclaimed in a half exasperated tone. "How do you expect to ever date if you never call any girl back? Where's the logic in that?" She rolled her eyes as Reid blushed pinker. Hotch took pity.

"Where do we stand?" he asked brusquely, effectively breaking up the party.

"We have enough to give a preliminary profile in the morning, but without more evidence or a fresh crimescene it's pretty much just the basic statistics." Morgan replied.

"I've got a pretty good idea of the basic victimology, but so far it's inconclusive on connections between them. We could be missing something huge, or they could simply be unrelated. Maybe by morning Garcia will have dug something up, otherwise we need to reinterview the family and friends." Emily continued.

"The geographical profile is still pretty preliminary, but we should be able to encourage the police to increase their patrols in a few key places and maybe start to ask around about people who seem to be canvasing the area or otherwise acting suspiciously." Reid suggested.

"Good. We'll get a fresh start in the morning, let's head to the hotel. I want this character caught before Tuesday." Hotch decided firmly.


End file.
